


Fading into Fireworks

by ThroughTheTulips



Series: SPN Season 10 Choose Our Own Adventure Series [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Hellatus Funtimes, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughTheTulips/pseuds/ThroughTheTulips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam decides to investigate the motel, but things go wrong pretty quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fading into Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a little rushed for me. I have houseguests for the week but wanted to get it up on Tumblr. If you want to vote on this post's outcome try here:
> 
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1tELccsIY-auU5So_WyuOAVY3qUprO5VoWkedqDRRpAM/viewform?usp=send_form
> 
> If I've posted the next work in this series, of course, that means you can't vote anymore. I'm pretty diligent about shutting the polls down at any rate, so there shouldn't be confusion.

**Last post’s dilemma** : Should Sam try to investigate the motel?

**Tumblr Chose** : Yes, but there’s no sense in being overt about it. Sam should get the EMF reader from the trunk and wander by the room in question, maybe try to get inside. If there’s a spirit there he can do some research into the motel while Bobby showers.

*****

            Sam cleared his throat. “I’m going to grab my duffel while you sort this out, okay?”

            Lexi paused in her reassurances to toss him a keychain shaped like the rearing El Palomino sign. “I’m on til seven if you need anything!”

            “Right, thanks.” He ducked out and went over to the car. Cas was leaning against the side. His face looked drawn, like it had when he was human, and Sam felt a flicker of worry. “Hey, are you all right? You’d tell me if you were burning out faster than you thought, right?”

            “You said it yourself,” the angel said. “I can’t help Dean if I’m dead. There should be a few days warning before I ‘burn out’ as you put it, and I don’t feel close yet.”

            Sam relaxed a little. He popped the trunk and began rifling through his gear. “I’ve got to check on something. The room’s 108. You go ahead, get Bobby settled in.”

            “I ain’t in a nursing home yet,” Bobby grumbled, unfolding himself from the backseat. His eyes landed on the EMF detector in Sam’s hand. “Aw, hell. What now?”

            “Nothing, it’s just a suspicion,” he said defensively. “A lady inside says her lights are flickering and the room’s cold with the AC off. Maybe it’s bad wiring, maybe not. If it is a spirit I can handle it by myself, all right?”

            The old hunter groaned. “The idea was for all of us to get some rest, ya idjit. Let me call Garth.”

            “There might not be anyone in the area. This is our responsibility, Bobby. We can’t ignore people who need our help just because it’s inconvenient.”

            Castiel straightened. “Sam is correct. Whatever else hunters do, they protect the unaware. I can take care of this more quickly than either of you.”

            “No way,” Sam said at once. “No using angel mojo on things humans can do, Cas.”

            “And your plan is to do what? Wander the motel pretending you’re lost and hope your machine will detect a spirit?” his friend demanded. “This is a transitory residence. If there is a ghost it’s unlikely to be someone buried nearby.” He snarled at Sam’s stubborn expression. “Let me at least look. That much requires very little energy. If I find a spirit, I will let you resolve the matter.”

            That- actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. “All right. Just look, though.”

            Cas nodded once. His eyes unfocused, staring somewhere over the Impala’s hood. At length he shook his head. “I detect no spirits in this motel. This must be a simple equipment malfunction.”

            Bobby chuckled and hefted his duffel. “Maybe the next thing we should do is a vacation, Sam. You’re seeing ghosts in a broken AC.”

            “The next thing we do will be finding a way to help Dean,” Castiel said shortly. He stalked past them to the hotel room. Relieved and embarrassed, Sam followed. Maybe he looked a little stupid, but that was better than possibly ignoring a hunt when it fell under his nose. Now he could sleep with a clear conscience.

            Bobby claimed the bathroom first by right of age, but he didn’t take long. Maybe he was too tired. Sam came out of the shower to find him passed out on top of the floral bedspread, snoring lightly. He’d barely kicked his boots off. Sam took a moment to tug the comforter over him and move his ball cap to the night stand. If the old man had to sleep in his jeans, at least he could be a little more comfortable.

            Castiel had a newspaper open at the table. “What time should I wake you?”.

            Sam hung his towel over a chair. “How does six sound? We can hit a drive through and be on the road by six thirty.” He stretched out on the empty bed, pushing a pillow into decent shape. “Are you reading the newspaper?”

            “Is there a problem with that?”

            “Don’t you usually just… sit?”

            Castiel gave him a reproving glare as he flipped a page. “I was recently human. I will soon be human again. As you and Dean have repeatedly point out to me, humans do not ‘just sit’. Are you planning to waste time you could be sleeping in teasing me?”

            Sam rolled over to hide a smile in his pillow. “Try the comics, maybe you’ll get more of them now.”

            He must have been more tired than he thought. It seemed like he’d barely closed his eyes when he startled awake, already drawing his gun as the door burst open. His trigger finger tightened, then loosened when he recognized the intruder. “Cas? What the hell happened to you?”

            Castiel looked like he’d been in a brawl with a mountain lion. He bled freely from a dozen places on his face and arms, his tie hung in shredded tatters, and one arm of his trenchcoat was covered in gore. He dropped something- _shit, was that a heart?_ \- on the table. “I may have misled you about the spirit.”

            “Damn it, Cas, why- whoa, easy there,” Sam said, jumping up to catch the angel before he fell. Bobby ducked under his other arm. Together they helped Cas to a chair. Sam ran to pull antiseptic and bandages from the first aid kit. “Want to fill us in here?”

            It didn’t make things less alarming when Cas accepted the doctoring without protest. He merely sagged in his chair, face pale under the blood. “I told part of the truth. The equipment was probably malfunctioning on its own, but that was no human woman. She was a jikininki, a very specific type of rakshasa. They can only be killed permanently by removing the heart, incinerating the corpse, and drowning the heart in holy water.”

            “And you didn’t think we could, I don’t know, help you?” Bobby applied a pair of butterfly band aids with unnecessary force. “It takes a lot of energy you don’t have to burn a body to ashes. You can barely stand.”

            “The jikininki is canny. If she knew we recognized her she would have fled, and we’d have to follow. They kill often and cruelly. It was simpler for me to handle her execution on my own.” The angel winced at the alcohol’s sting. “Bobby is correct, however. I did overestimate how much energy I had to spare.”

            Sam’s hand stilled on the Neosporin tube. “By how much, Cas? How long do you have?”

            The blue eyes were resigned as Cas answered, “Not much. Perhaps enough to reach my brothers in California, perhaps not.”

            His words hit Sam like a punch to the gut. He stood slowly, fighting the impulse to yell. Arguing never helped him when Dean was being stupidly self-sacrificing. It wouldn’t help him now, either, not when Cas would take every frustrated word to heart. “You have enough. We’ll get you there.”

            “It will not be your fault if-”

            “I said we’ll get you there,” Sam repeated. His voice was louder than he’d meant, but he was having a hard time controlling his temper. “We can be in Monterey in fourteen hours.”

            Bobby took over with the antibiotic cream. “More like fifteen with traffic. Plus we’re gonna have to stop for gas and food.”

            “Gas. Not food. It won’t kill us to eat a few gas station burritos.” He grabbed his jeans from the dresser. “I’m going to fill the tank now. Clean him up and be ready when I get back, both of you.”

*******

            Google Maps estimated the drive from Grand Junction to Monterey at fifteen and a half hours. Bobby thought they might make fourteen with luck.

            Sam made it in twelve hours, forty two minutes.

            The roads between Colorado and California were empty enough to speed outrageously until rush hour started around eight. Sam stopped long enough to dig out his dome light and a set of fake secret service license plates Charlie had given him before hitting the road again, using the emergency lane to get around snarls. The plates were pretty awesome. Twice state troopers pulled in behind them and dropped back after a few moments. The tags would read fake to anything past an initial check, but luckily no one had been suspicious enough to dig. Sam thought with some amusement that the Lincoln helped there. It looked like something recovered in a drug bust and repurposed as an undercover car.

            After the first few hours Bobby stopped bitching about how fast they were going. Cas was fading fast, like killing the jikininki had pushed him past some tipping point. His skin had gone past pale into a shade of gray that scared Sam every time he glanced in the mirror. By the time they crossed into Monterey the angel was shivering non-stop despite the two blankets they’d piled on him, curled in on himself like everything hurt. A sort of electrical charge crackled through the air whenever he coughed. One spark had killed the radio already, and Bobby kept darkly predicting what would happen if it shocked one of them. Sam bit his cheek for patience and drove faster.

            Weak though he was, Castiel’s angel radio was working enough to organize the meeting with Nuriel. “Since I am giving this grace up willingly, I should retain my ability to hear Heaven as Anna did,” he said, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. “I can be of use that way at least.”

            “Don’t talk like that,” Sam said at once, craning his neck to read a street sign. “Even with no grace, you’re practically an encyclopedia of lore.”

            “You don’t need angelic strength to be a hunter, either,” Bobby put in. “You just have to learn how to fight like someone who gives a damn if he gets hurt.”

            Cas coughed hard, sending a spark of blue lightning so close to Sam’s head that the hair stood on end. “Apologies. I am unable to contain the remnants of this grace. Sam, there isn’t-”

            “This is it!” Sam interrupted. He turned into the parking lot of the Lover’s Point Inn and cut in front of a Prius for the last spot. “Which room, Cas?”

            Castiel sat up weakly. His eyes skimmed the tan building before stopping on the third floor. “Nuriel is there, preparing for the transfer.”

            The words seemed to give him some strength back. He was shaking much less as he climbed out of the car. Sam and Bobby flanked him anyway, hovering at his elbows as they walked through the lobby to the elevator. The desk clerk, a stylish lady in her mid-thirties, gave Castiel’s disheveled appearance a dubious look. One manicured hand stretched towards the desk phone. Sam pushed the “up” button and flashed her his best reassuring grin. “We have a room here, on three.”

            She glanced at the clock. It was barely past lunchtime. “Your friend’s starting kind of early, isn’t he?”

            “My brother-in-law,” Sam said, shrugging as if embarrassed. “And yeah. He’s had kind of a rough day.”

            “Understatement.” Castiel swayed against Bobby’s supporting arm. “I have not felt this badly since I drank the liquor store.”

            The clerk’s expression wavered between amusement and disgust. “Looks like maybe you drank another one. Do you need some extra bottled water or anything, sir?”

            A cheerful ding announced the elevator’s arrival. Sam pushed the others on ahead of him and threw the clerk an apologetic smile. “We’re good, thanks. Sorry about this. We’ll put him right to bed, I swear.”

            Cas was shaking again, leaning heavily on Bobby. “That woman thinks I’m intoxicated.”

            “You look like you’re coming off a three day bender,” the hunter said. He shifted his grip to offer more support. “Got the bottle, Sam?”

            Sam produced the towel-wrapped wine bottle. “Right here. Hang in there, Cas.”

            “I am doing what I can,” the angel said through clenched teeth. “This elevator needs to move more quickly.”

            As short as the ride to the third floor was, Sam agreed. It felt like an eternity until the metal doors slid open and they could stagger out. A short, slender man with near-black skin stood waiting by an open door, his posture so formal that Sam knew who he was before he spoke. “Brother Castiel, you are in good time. I have everything ready.” Nuriel’s pale grey eyes found Sam and lit up. “Sam Winchester. It is an honor to meet you.”

            The hunter ducked his head as he moved to let his friends out. “Uh, thanks. It’s Nuriel, right?”

            Nuriel beamed at him. It was strange seeing pleasant expressions on an angel; most of the ones Sam knew stuck to condescension or annoyance. “I carry that name, yes. Thank you for bringing Castiel so quickly.” He reached out to usher the other angel past him.

            A thin blue bolt leapt from Castiel’s hand to Bobby’s arm. Bobby let out a startled curse and jerked backwards, elbow smacking into the wine bottle. A sense of futility fell over Sam as the bottle shot backwards out of his grip to collide with the wall. He expected a crash, expected the sound of shattering glass to ruin this last ditch effort, because why should he ever win? Why should one single thing work out for him? Everything he touched went wrong. He couldn’t even die right. Why should this be any different?

            “Huh. Tough little bastard.” Bobby straightened, the bottle in his hand.

            The _intact_ bottle.

            Sam nearly went limp with relief. “It’s okay? It didn’t break?”

            Nuriel came forward to take it, eyes inspecting the blue glass. “It appears whole. Please come in while I examine it.” They crowded into the room on his heels.

            Crowded was probably the wrong word. This was a large suite complete with a living room and two bedrooms. Any other time Sam might be checking out the flatscreen or the fully-stocked bar, but now his eyes went immediately to the floor. Blue chalk lines marred the snowy tile, a series of angelic symbols and diagrams all radiating inward towards an Enochian symbol at the center. Castiel examined the lines with approval. “This is well done.”

            Nuriel made a self-deprecating gesture. “I have never done something like this. It seemed sensible to use precautions, but brother…” He looked up from the bottle, troubled. “There may be a problem. This bottle has a small chip near the mouth.”

            The group moved in to see. Sure enough, a tiny chunk of glass was missing on one side of the neck. “What does that mean?” Sam asked. “Can we still use it?”

            The angels exchanged uncertain glances. “If the bottle was chipped when Missouri had it blessed, it is still useable,” Castiel said slowly. “But if it chipped when it fell a moment ago the damage will have compromised its integrity. Attempting to fill it with Grace could have disastrous results.”

            “You mean you could die?”

            “I mean it could explode, destroying everyone in this hotel,” his friend said. “Which, yes, means I could die as well.”

            Bobby snatched at the brim of his cap, disgusted. “Balls. I’m sorry, Cas. Can we make another vessel? There’s gotta be a church around here somewhere with a priest that can bless a new one.”

            Nuriel cleared his throat. “There is another option.”

            Cas gave him a sharp look. “No.”

            “We know it will work,” his brother said persuasively. “With Theo dead his grace is inert, simple energy. It’s no different from what he already carries from the Gadreel, just stronger.”

            “One of you want to spell it out for us?” Bobby asked, irritated. “Cas ain’t exactly got tons of time here.”

            They didn’t answer, but Sam didn’t need them to. He knew where this was going. “You mean me,” he said flatly. “You want to put the grace in me.”

            “You would have to take confession first, but you are a perfect choice,” Nuriel agreed. “Better than the bottle. You may not even notice it; Castiel said you didn’t feel the echoes before.”

            “So I’d what, store it in the back of my soul until we found somewhere better to put it?”

            “Essentially, yes. Theo is dead. We all felt his passing, and this grace is partially attuned to Castiel now anyway. There is no angel in it to control you.”

            Castiel loosened his shredded tie enough to pull it off. “I won’t ask this of you, Sam. The bottle is most likely fine.”

            “Are we just gonna ignore the possibility of explosion?” Bobby snapped.

            The angel hesitated only briefly. “We can do the transfer down on the beach. Nuriel can redraw this in the sand there, where no one will be hurt if the vessel fails.”

            “We’re worried about you, too, boy. You can’t stand up to a strong wind in your condition, let along exploding grace.”

            Their argument flowed around Sam. He stood stock still, turning the options over in his head. He could see Cas weakening almost by the minute. Whatever they decided they had to move quickly; the choice was dangerously close to being made for them.

*****

Which vessel should the group use?

1) The blue glass wine bottle. It was in Missouri’s cabinet for god knows how long, that chip was probably already there. Yeah.

2) A new bottle blessed by a nearby priest. It might take an hour or so to arrange, but maybe if Cas stays quiet here they have enough time.

3) Sam. He really didn’t notice those shreds of Gadreel’s grace, and it’s not like a dead angel can possess him without Nuriel noticing. This is the best bad idea they have.

 

 


End file.
